


Victory on Roosevelt Avenue

by WhatTheCensoredXD



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, FIFA World Cup 2018, Fluff, Infinity War AU (Peter is not dead), Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheCensoredXD/pseuds/WhatTheCensoredXD
Summary: You and Peter head to Jackson Heights to watch the Mexico vs Germany FIFA World Cup 2018 game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I am back after 2 years (maybe? I'm not sure), but I recently got inspired to write some fanfic again and I really wanted to do something with the World Cup and Peter Parker hahaha. This story was just inching to get itself written and I obviously caved in. It is my first story after a few years of not writing so sorry in advance if there are some mistakes. I promise to edit this once I have some free time! I just really wanted to post the story. 
> 
> Some key points: The story is written from the reader’s POV (I think I somewhat failed at this, so sorry again) and it is a Mexican!reader (female, sorry if I didn’t make it gender neutral!). The story is a bit AU since I completely ignored anything/everything that has to do with Infinity War (Thanos doesn’t exist, no one disappeared, Earth is safe, yadda yadda yadda). I just needed Peter to be alive for the World Cup okay? I think that’s about it. I hope you all enjoy the story! 
> 
> I also recently made a Tumblr account and my username is AstoriaWriter14. If you want to follow my account by all means go for it. The format is a bit boring, but I will be posting some fanfics on there as well.

It’s around 10:35am on this fine Sunday morning, but you know why this particular Sunday is extremely special. Not only is it Father’s Day, but today is Mexico’s first match in the 2018 World Cup and the long strip of Roosevelt Avenue in Queens is very much alive and bursting with excitement. Last week, you invited Peter at school if he wanted to join you and your family in watching the upcoming game. Being the good boyfriend he is, Peter gladly agreed (especially since he could never say no to you). 

Yesterday you texted him the station where you two will meet and from there walk to the restaurant together. You were too busy checking your phone that Peter easily sneaks up behind you and plants a surprise kiss on your cheek.

You jump and turn around, but your shoulders relax when you see your lovely boyfriend with his famous brown locks. “Peter! You made it!”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to come? I’m offended,” Peter playful scoffs as he places his left hand over his heart. You roll your eyes, but chuckle before giving him a quick kiss on his lips. “So where are going?”

“To this restaurant called Taqueria Coatzingo. One of the best Mexican restaurants in Jackson Heights!” You explain as you hold his right hand and lead the way down the street. “I told my parents I would meet them there a few minutes before the game starts because I was waiting for you. You’re going to love the food, Peter! They make these incredible classic dishes like carne asada tacos, bistec a la Mexicana, or if you’re feeling quite adventurous: carnitas en salsa verde o roja, but whatever you choose, I promise you it will be a party in your mouth.”

The sixteen year old superhero rubs his stomach. “That all sounds delicious. Maybe I’ll take some food back for Aunt May. I’m sure she would love it.”

As you chattered away about the World Cup, Peter’s eyes glances around the vibrant avenue and is overwhelm over the happy chaos he sees. There were fans wearing bold, colorful outfits that embodied the Mexican flag. Some had luchador masks over their faces, others sporting large sombreros with comfortable ponchos. Peter even notices a man dressed up in a costume full of feathers with the face of an eagle perched on his head.

He turns his attention to you and sees the Mexican jersey you were proudly wearing. Peter then looks at himself and realizes how underdressed he felt: a boring blue button up shirt and denim jeans. He purses his lips and chastises himself for not putting more effort. He could have at least worn something green or red.

He feels so out of place.

Peter soon calls your name, interrupting your talk, and you hum while looking at him. Your eyes narrow as his face grows uncomfortable and his gaze falls to the ground. You also feel his hand tighten around its hold and realize something was wrong with him.

“Are you okay, Peter?”

His head snaps back up and begins to furiously nod. “Oh-h, yeah! I’m fine! Really!”

“Peter…I know when you’re lying,” you scold at him and gently tug his right hand. You stop walking and stand in front of him without losing your grip. Your other hand reaches out to caress his smooth, pale cheek and you brush a few of his curls away from his forehead. Peter sighs at your therapeutic touches, but he remains stressed. You place one finger underneath his chin and raise it so you were staring directly into his chocolatey, doe-like, eyes.

“What’s the matter? I know something is bothering you.”

“I’m just nervous,” he mumbles and you tilt your head in confusion. Peter glances behind your shoulder, the sea of green shirts waving in the distance. His ears pick up the boastful chants coming from the massive crowd and the Mexican music booming from nearby speakers.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes return their attention to you. “I honestly don’t know too much about the World Cup, and I am afraid I might say or do something so stupid that could end up offending your people. Plus, I’m not even dressed properly and it makes me stick out like a sore thumb. I could have at least worn the colors of your flag, but I guess I forgot. Besides: it’s Father’s Day! I feel like I’m intruding on this special day for you and your family!”

You quickly blink and laugh heartily, gripping his left shoulder. “Oh, Peter! Is that what you’re really worried about? If I’m being honest, I don’t follow too much about soccer except for the World Cup games. No matter how many times my dad or uncles try to explain the technicalities of the game, I still end up being confused.

“As for Father’s Day,” you continue, giving Peter’s hand a soft squeeze, “it’s no big deal that you’re here. My mom and dad are more than happy enough to welcome you into our festivities! If anything, they asked me to invite you because they know you’re a good person who makes me happy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You have nothing to worry about, trust me,” you reassure him with a brief peck on his lips. Peter smiles softly as he bends his head down to kiss you again. You close the space and snake your arms around neck as his own circles on your waist. The wolf-whistles from across the street break the romantic moment and you pull yourself away from Peter to annoyingly wave off the bystanders laughing. A chuckle rumbles through your chest as you see Peter’s face beat red. “Ignore them, they’re probably drunk already.”

“But it’s almost eleven!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like that will stop them from not drinking their beer.”

Both of you share a laugh and you pat his bicep. “Listen, if you are still worried about saying something ‘wrong,’” you air-quote the last word with your fingers, “then let me just give you some advice. Number one: if you can, use the word fútbol instead of soccer in your conversation. You’ll get brownie points and earn a level of respect from a few fans in the crowd, but if ‘soccer’ slips from your lips, it’s fine. You’ll probably get a pass because, well,” you lower your voice to a whisper, “you’re white.”

Peter shrugs in understand and you hold up two fingers. “Number two: when watching the game, don’t sweat if you’re lost. A lot happens within two 45-minute matches and if the game is extremely intense, like this one that we’re about to watch, then the excitement level from the crowd exponentially goes up. For your sake, just cheer loudly with everyone else when Mexico scores a goal. Can’t go wrong celebrating a goal for the Mexican team!”

You hold up three fingers. “Lastly, just relax and have fun. Don’t worry about not wearing the Mexican colors. Just being here shows support and earns a stamp of approval from my people. One of the things that I love most about the World Cup is that it is a sport that is universal. No matter what country you’re from, what language you speak or what color your skin is—everyone can sit and watch the games together which creates a sense of global connectedness.” 

“Wow,” Peter breaths out in astonishment and you giggle at his reaction. “Now I’m kinda embarrassed to not really appreciate the World Cup before. But I feel much better now.”

“Good,” you happily beam and gave a quick kiss on his lips again. “Now lets head to the restaurant before the game starts. I don’t want to miss a second of this match!”

The two of you run down the street and enter the lively restaurant overflowing with hundreds of fans. And true to your word, Peter relishes every single minute of the game. When Mexico scores their first goal, the whole place erupts in jubilation. You jump from your seat and tightly hug Peter, almost knocking him off his chair. He’s never seen you so emotionally invested before: cheering and clapping hard when a Mexican player runs across the field to make a goal or cursing and raising your hands in the air in exasperation when something horrible happens. The atmosphere of the restaurant certainly fuels how the crowd behaves and he found himself anxiously clutching his cup a few times throughout the game.

Once the final whistle blows through the speakers, officially ending the match, Peter swears he feels the ground shake as hundreds of people start celebrating the team’s historic victory. Basking in the euphoria after Mexico’s glorious win against the reigning champions, Germany, you tell Peter you were going to get some more water from the counter. He nods and, while grinning, starts to record a video of some Mexican fans singing Cielito Lindo at the top of their lungs. As you make your way back to your table, you notice your uncle gleefully pat Peter’s shoulders, but then the smirk on your face falls as you see the older man shove a certain drink into your boyfriend’s hand… 

“Oh my gosh, Tío!” You scream over the chants. “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!”


	2. An Unexpected Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Originally this story was supposed to be a one-shot, but after watching the World Cup games on Wednesday (June 27th), the reactions I saw after South Korea's amazing win and how the Mexicans celebrated was too good to not write something about it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wednesday, June 27th. 9:23am.

It is another day, another game for Mexico and you waited outside the Roosevelt Avenue station for Peter again. He didn’t join you for the second match against South Korea on Saturday because of his Stark Internship, but he managed to make it for the last match in the Group F setting before the knockout rounds. The train’s wheels screech against the metal rails hanging above your head and you realize how busy the station is compared to other days. As you turn your head around, your eyes beam in happiness as you see Peter approach you.

This time, he is wearing a Mexican jersey.

“Surprise,” he greets you with his arms wide open, spinning around to give you a 360 view. You nod impressively. “Is this fine?”

“It’s perfect!” You grin and clasp your hands together. “When did you buy the shirt?”

“Over the weekend,” he shares before scratching the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not an official shirt from Adidas, though. I think it’s a knock off since Aunt May and I bought it from a random store.”

You smile warmly at him. “It’s the thought that counts, Peter. My parents will love it, trust me, they will.”

His eyes shine brightly and the two of you begin your way toward _Taqueria Coatzingo_. Unlike the first time around, Peter is more at ease and confident walking down Roosevelt Avenue. He felt welcomed by your community and culture—almost too welcomed by your uncle who tried to give him a beer the last time around, but you put a stop to it. You explain to him that everyone hope Mexico wins their last match since it would not only guarantee them a spot into the next round, but also be first in their group.

When the two of you arrive, your parents greet Peter with open arms and compliment him for wearing the Mexican jersey. Pushing your way through the thick crowd, you find your seats and immediately sit down. A close family friend says hello to you and drapes a large Mexican flag on your shoulders—“ _¡Que Dios los bendiga a El Tri!_ ”—before leaving you two alone. Peter’s fingers softly graze the material and you move your right arm to wrap half of the fabric over his shoulders. You both briefly share an intimate moment before the excited screams of the fans pull your attention towards the screen.

After listening to both countries’ anthems, you get ready for the game to begin. The first half of the game goes by without any goals. You were gripping your hair so hard that you were surprised that you weren’t bald yet. There were some close shots that could have been goals, but the score continues to be tied for both countries. Half time comes and you sigh nervously, placing your chin on the palm of your hand while Peter gently rubs your back. As the second half of the game starts, you silently pray for Mexico to score one goal just so that the team can secure their spot for the next round.

Unfortunately, the universe has other ideas and rewards a goal for Sweden five minutes into the game. Your shoulders deflate at the sight of the new score, 1-0, but you murmur underneath your breath, “Come, Mexico! There’s still time to catch up…”

At the 62 minute, the referee grants Sweden a penalty shot—much to everyone’s dismay in the Mexican restaurant—and the Swedish player effortlessly makes the goal, the scoreboard reading 2-0 now. You groan in your seat and lean your head against Peter’s shoulder, but there was still hope that Mexico could tie. As you and Peter watch the game, that small thread of hope you held was crushed as your eyes widen in horror; a Mexican player misses an attempted clearance and pushes the ball into the back of his own net, awarding Sweden a third goal. At this point you feel tears prickling your eyes at the thought of Mexico leaving the World Cups becomes more likely.

“There’s no way Mexico can score three goals in less than twenty minutes,” you admit in defeat to Peter. You quietly sniff as your boyfriend pulls you into his warm embrace in an attempt to comfort you. The restaurant was uncharacteristically silent and Peter could feel the crushed spirit without his “spider sense.” Compared to the first match with Germany, this place resemble more like a funeral as he sees some fans cry while others cover their faces in their hands.

“ _¡Cambia el canal al otro partido!_ ” A man screams from the back and the rest of the crowd hollers in agreement.

Peter inches closer to your ear. “Why are they changing the channel?”

“Because South Korea could still help Mexico advance to the next round,” you explain as your eyes briefly connects with his before shifting them back to the television screen. Your heart beats quickly as you see the score is still zero for both teams, even when the full 90 minutes were up. The game moves on to extra time. “South Korea needs to either win or tie with Germany so Mexico can go through despite losing to Sweden.”

Although Peter is still confused, he remains silent and watches with bated breath. The announcers were quickly speaking in Spanish that he barely grasps what they’re saying, but he understands that everyone in the restaurant wants South Korea to win. Peter stares intently at the South Korean player kicking the soccer ball from the right corner field and the white sphere maneuvers its way through the other athletes’ feet until…

“ _¡GOLLLLLLLL!_ ” The sport commentator’s voice blows through the speakers around the restaurant and you leap from your chair in amazement. However your heart falls as the referee gestures his arms around, pausing the game for a moment. He runs off the field and reviews the video to decide whether the South Korean player was within the correct bounds to make the goal. You hear some people shout from behind you to claim that the goal was legit. Despite having super strength, Peter silently winces as your grip tightens around his hand but he expected this to happen because this is an intense moment.

Then the moment of truth came: the referee enters the field again and rewards the goal to South Korea.

You immediately turn around to face Peter and jump into his arms, screaming loudly at the goal from South Korea. Everyone is celebrating the magnificent goal as if the Mexican team made it themselves with chants ringing through the air and horns booming from all corners of the restaurant. You briefly let go of Peter to snatch the Mexican flag draped across your seat and clutch the fabric with all your might. Your teeth clench in anticipation as you see the time on the screen slowly tick by.

Just six more minutes.

Six more minutes left, but you were nervous because you know anything could happen in these final minutes.

“ _¡Vamos, Corea¡ ¡Vamos, Corea¡ ¡Vamos, Corea¡_ ” You yell with pride, your body anxiously shaking like the rest of Mexican fans. “Let’s go! You can do it!”

As the time almost reaches towards the very end, everyone stares as the ball flies across the green field with a lone South Korean player running towards Germany’s empty goal post. There isn’t anyone there to stop him and you, along with everyone else in the restaurant, cheer loudly at another possible goal.

Then…

“ _¡GOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL! Golazooooooo, golazoooooo, golazo para Corea del Sur! ¡Esto es increíble! ¡Histórico! ¡Alemania esta afuera de la Mundial!_ ”

You screech in happiness, wrapping the Mexican flag around yourself as you hold onto Peter. With less than three minutes left on the clock, you start to sing with the rest of the fans —“ _¡Ole, ole, ole, Corea, Corea!_ ”—although you could not believe what you were watching. History was about to happen, again, at the World Cup. Soon enough, the final whistle blows and the whole restaurant erupts into pure mayhem as South Korea defeats Germany and saves Mexico from being eliminated from the tournament.

Tears rush down your flushed cheeks as you were very overwhelm at what just happened. You snap your head towards Peter and frivolously crash your lips onto his, not caring if your parents were standing close to the two of you. Peter’s eyes widens in shock and becomes paralyze for a second until he mentally kicks himself and eagerly returns the kiss with the same amount passion you gave. The two of you pull away to catch your breaths and you start to cry making Peter worry, but you shake your head while laughing.

“I’m just happy, Peter,” you hiccup as you bury your face against his sturdy shoulder. Peter relaxes and wraps his arms around your waist to comfort your hyperventilating state. One hand clutches your boyfriend’s shirt while the other clings on to the Mexican flag. You feel Peter’s lips pepper some kisses against the temple of your head and soon starts swaying you in his embrace. You chuckle and slightly lean back to see his bright smile on his perfect face. You probably look like a mess, but Peter did not care one bit; he knows how much this sport means for you, your family and your culture.

A group of men in front of you were bouncing in unison, their glasses of beer showering anyone nearby. Unfortunately, this meant that you and Peter were standing right in the splash zone and you shriek as you feel the warm liquid reach your skin. Peter clutches his stomach and laughs hard. You immediately join him and tug his arm to lead him outside into the streets where other fans were celebrating.

If you and Peter thought inside was insane, outside on Roosevelt Avenue was a different story. A sea of green shirts invades the streets and multiple Mexican flags wave. People were jumping, crying and a few were kissing their rosaries after witnessing an outstanding miracle that the universe bestowed upon them today. The avenue is so loud that not even the 7 train roaring above them could mask their celebratory chants and shouts.

“South Korea did it, Peter!” You squeal with joy. “They won and took Germany out! They eliminated the champions and Mexico advances! Oh my goodness!” You stop jumping and gasp while grabbing his arm. “We have to celebrate!”

Peter laughs as he rakes his hair with his free hand. “I thought we are celebrating?”

“Yes, but we need to eat some Korean BBQ,” you cheekily grin at him. Before you can continue, a loud commotion occurs to your left and you turn around to see a small crowd forming. Peter’s eyebrows furrow together and you stand on your toes to see better. Suddenly a man rises up and sits on someone’s shoulders while everyone else cheers louder. “Oh my gosh, they actually found a _Korean man_ and are praising him like he’s some god.”

“ _¡Coreano, hermano, ya eres mexicano!_ ” The Mexican people chant as they rush down the avenue with the Korean man waving the Mexican flag in the air. You shake your head in disbelief as a impromptu parade forms down the street. Peter claps from the sidelines, amazed by how much love and sportsmanship he is witnessing right now.

“That is just, wow,” he wheezes and your eyes twinkle in amusement. “Everything just happened so fast in those last few minutes! Like everyone in there,” he gestures towards the celebration booming inside Taqueria Coatzingo, “thought Mexico was gone for sure and next thing you know: South Korea surprises us with those nail-biting goals!”

You laugh. “Welcome to the world of _fútbol_. Anything can happen until the final whistle blows.”

“So when is the next match?”

“I believe Monday,” you check your phone to confirm the day. “We don’t know who we’ll be playing against yet, but I’m sure Mexico will bring their A-game for the next match.” You lower your phone and flash a smirk in Peter’s direction. “I got you addicted to the World Cup haven’t I?”

“Maybe,” he innocently shrugs and you snort, but grin at him. Peter feels his stomach grumbling and nudges your arm. “Hey, I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat!”

“Well the Korean BBQ offer still stands.”

“Fine by me, let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> 1) “¡Que Dios los bendiga a El Tri!” / “May God bless El Tri!” (“El Tri” is a nickname for the Mexican national football team).
> 
> 2) “¡Cambia el canal al otro partido!” / “Change the channel to the other game!”
> 
> 3) “¡Vamos, Corea¡” / “Let’s go, [South] Korea!”
> 
> 4) “…golazo para Corea del Sur! ¡Esto es increíble! ¡Histórico! ¡Alemania esta afuera de la Mundial!” / “…goal for South Korea! This is incredible! Historic! Germany is out of the World Cup!” 
> 
> 5) “¡Coreano, hermano, ya eres mexicano!” / “Korean, brother, you are now Mexican!”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!” / “Don’t give Peter a Corona! He is underaged!”


End file.
